


I Love You In My Very Bones

by nanero11



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, im sorry, like seriously he ded, ummmm major character death!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23536357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanero11/pseuds/nanero11
Summary: Jaskier makes a quick pit stop and makes an unexpected discovery.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	I Love You In My Very Bones

Jaskier was casually passing by a small town when he decided he would stop for a break at the local tavern and try to make some extra coin. After a couple renditions of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher, and a few other songs about the White Wolf, he took a break to order some ale.

While nursing his drink he gave some thought to the man the songs were based on. In fact, he found it so strange that he hadn’t seen Geralt at all recently. Usually they would end up seeing each other every couple of months if not sooner, but as he took a moment to really think about the last time he saw Geralt he realized it must’ve been almost a year ago. He wondered what the other man was up to.

Suddenly, a small voice to his right caught his attention. “Mr. Bard?”

Jaskier looked down at the small child and couldn’t help but smile. Usually children would ask him to sing some of his catchier songs and he was always more than happy to oblige them. “Yes?”

“Were you singing about the White Wolf? Geralt of Rivia?”

“Why, yes I was. Do you want to hear some stories about him?” Jaskier patted the seat next to him, offering it to the child, who crawled up onto it.

“He died here.”

“What?” Jaskier laughed, caught off guard. What had Geralt done this time? Apparently something stupid enough to confuse a poor, little child.

“All the big scary monsters got him. We aren’t allowed to play over there, but my brother showed me him.”

“Showed you him?” Jaskier hummed out, bemused by the child’s tale.

“I’ll show you!” The child grabbed Jaskier’s hand, tugging at him to come along, barely giving the bard time to grab his lute.

Jaskier let himself be led out to the edge of the town, figuring he might as well dispel the child’s misinformed notions. He chuckled to himself, imagining how he would tell Geralt the story of the poor child who thought the witcher was dead. In fact, he’d actually have to scold the witcher for giving that impression to a child in the first place.

“Where are you taking us?” Jaskier inquired, as the child took them deeper into a field that seemed to be untouched by the town. The thick, unruly growth of the vegetation had Jaskier stumbling on rocks and catching the toes of his boots on mounds of earth that he couldn’t see.

“Over there.” A short, stubby finger pointed to a spot in the field where there seemed to be a small clearing of some sort. Jaskier rolled his eyes in response, thinking he should’ve at least finished his ale before allowing himself to be dragged around on some wild-goose chase.

As they trudged their way across the vast field, Jaskier began squinting more, starting to make out some weird black heap lying in the clearing. Finally, they reached their destination and all Jaskier could do was stare, not quite understanding what he was looking at.

“See? I told you.” The child looked up at Jaskier, waiting for a reply, but got none for Jaskier suddenly felt like he couldn’t draw in a breath big enough to form words with.

He could barely hear the sound of his lute hitting the ground, his hands trembling too hard to keep a grip on it. He didn’t even feel the pain in his knees when he dropped to them. A sensation of bloodcurdling nausea ripped through his gut as he crawled over to the pile of black leather and bones, frantically looking through them.

Because this didn’t make sense. Because black leather and bones could belong to _anyone_. Because Geralt _wasn’t_ dead. Because—

His shaking hand reached out to pick up the glinting medallion, the sun shining upon it as though it was pointing the necklace out to Jaskier. His thumb slowly traced the wolf on the front of it, and the bard let out the short, choked breath he had been holding as he realized it could only be Geralt’s.

What had happened? How much had Geralt suffered? How long had Geralt been out here that he was now reduced to a pile of bones and some tattered clothes? If Jaskier had been with him, would it have turned out differently? Would Geralt still be here?

And how long had Jaskier been blissfully ignorant to the fact that the man he had devoted his life to was rotting out in the middle of a field? How long had he been unaware that the man he loved was _dead_?

Why had it taken Jaskier so long to find out? How stupid did he have to be to not realize how strange it was to not see Geralt for so long? He hadn’t even been worried about the Witcher, he’d always been so sure…so sure that Geralt would _always_ be there.

All those times when he came across a new town hoping to hear news of Geralt, hoping he might actually see him in one of the inns, hoping that he might spot Roach and in turn find her owner. All those times he lay awake at night imagining his next encounter with Geralt, thinking of the stories he had to tell him, the songs he wanted to sing for him, the things he still had to say to the Witcher.

All those times for naught, because here Geralt finally was and yet Jaskier would never see him ever again.

“When—” Jaskier whispered, swallowing harshly as his voice cracked. “When did this happen?”

The small child shrugged, glancing back towards the town, “I have to go or I'll be in trouble.” Jaskier watched the child run off, leaving him alone with the pile of rags and bones...with Geralt.

He sat there for a while, looking out at the scene in front of him, not really knowing what to do, what to say, how to feel. The initial panic and adrenaline had long since worn off, leaving him with a devastating feeling of utter nothingness.

Carefully, he collected all of the bones, placing them together with the tenderest of care, instead of letting them stay in the disorganized manner he had found them in. Softly, he stroked his fingers across them, wiping away months build up of mud and dust. Gently, he placed Geralt’s medallion on top of the pile and cried. He cried for he was sad, even though he felt like he could never feel again. But mostly he cried because Geralt had deserved better and Jaskier hadn’t been able to give him that. Fuck, he couldn’t even give him a proper burial.

So, Jaskier slowly laid down next to Geralt, every now and then glancing over to look into the shadowy depths of where his bright eyes used to be, feeling like he knew all the grief in the world, and yet was empty at the same time. And Jaskier didn’t know when he would ever get up to leave because he had no idea how he was supposed to say goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh, i'm not the best at writing angst, but i hope this was okay lol  
> thx for letting me steal this idea grace ;)


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